What trickery is this?

What trickery this is?
Soft light on hard metal
where vague figures divide themselves
into sullen groups of despair        and,
somewhere deep and dark,
wish desperately for a new life
where they will slave for
money, beg for love and fight for food.

Or is this my private daylight nightmare
where I see gifted souls lost in the barren backlands

of oblivion? Unseen; never discoverd.

The mistreatment of creative refugees by
hollow men and goons
continues under the constant and 
wakeful eye of humanity.

All I know is that

succes is
longitude and latitude
divided by chance
divided by talent.